


Take Your Heart!

by mechawaka



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Persona 5, F/M, Felileth Week, First Kiss, awaken your hidden potential by yelling at your dead brother: the fic, byleth and the faerghus trio take on the metaverse! plus sothis is there as morgana (and igor), everyone's a high school senior and at least 18, it's also sort of a coffee shop au because of reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25220899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechawaka/pseuds/mechawaka
Summary: Usually, a Metaverse contract manifested within a few weeks of getting to know someone, but Felix's never did, even two moons into their acquaintance.In fact, it only formed after she’d first knocked him down in the alley behind Leblanc. Only then - when Byleth had him pinned with an elbow and the dull edge of a practice sword - had the Emperor’s tether snapped to life between them, taut and humming.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 23
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Edit 8/1/2020) Splitting this into more manageable chunks (and adding more)! **Chapter 3 is new content!**
> 
> [[Spotify mood playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3p0Ngn8SGUT5LOcWTiihnr?si=4IvszE_RSyCNyr3_6FSQLw)]

\---

1185 / 4 / 19 

Friday // After School

\---

The Shadows in this place were different.

_ Well _ , Byleth amended, bracing herself for another attack, everything about this Palace was different. Darker.

Her first foray into the Metaverse - before she’d even known its name, with only Sylvain at her side and a tiny voice in her head as guidance - had been tame by comparison. The manifestations of Miklan’s seething, tortured heart  _ were _ terrifying at the time, but it was nothing compared to- this.

This Palace had no walls; it was an open, bloody battlefield, littered with the bodies of the dead and dying. Discarded weapons - the shafts of broken polearms, the blades of shattered swords, all protruding from the ground like they’d grown from seeds, twisting up toward a red sun - marked the only clear paths through the carnage.

Each track of weapons led to a central point, the largest landmark on an otherwise flat plain: a massive throne of bleached bone and rusted steel that sat atop a mountain of rotting corpses - and sitting on it, so small at this distance as to be nearly indistinguishable, was a person. Their target.

_ Is this the place? _ Byleth had asked when the bustling city around them had phased into this barren landscape.  _ Is that him? _

Sylvain’s answering look had been grim - grim, in spite of the wide, permanent smile that adorned his mask.  _ Yeah, that’s him _ , he’d said, hefting his axe onto his shoulder.  _ That’s Dimitri _ .

Another of this Palace’s hulking, skeletal Shadows roared its intent, bringing a gigantic blade down on Byleth; she skipped nimbly to the side, slicing at its legs and squinting in the resulting rain of dust and bone fragments.

“ _ Wings _ ,” she called out, jumping back from the beast. Shallow hits wouldn’t bring down a creature of this size; she could deal with it, but they’d need to immobilize it first.

Ingrid, the newest member of their team, rushed forward on command, leaving Sylvain to deal with another, less dangerous Shadow on his own. 

“I’ve got this,” she said confidently, brandishing her lance. “Stay behind me, Byleth.”

A thin, electronically fragmented voice screeched from all three of their phones at once, “Use the  _ codenames _ , Wings!”

Ingrid, with one hand on her mask, ready to rip it off, grimaced at Sothis’s reminder. “Right,” she said sheepishly, but quickly regained her steadfast composure. “Stay behind me- Fiend.”

She tore the long bridal veil - or was it a funerary veil? Byleth could never decide - from her face and threw it to the ground, pointing her lance at the Shadow and clearly, loudly invoking, “Daphnel!”

Her Persona, a knight of old, armored in shining gold and mounted upon a white horse, manifested hazy and translucent above her head and shouted a rallying war cry; moments later, a craggy mass of solid ice jutted up from the dirt and encased the Shadow’s legs, rooting it to the spot.

Ingrid’s dress - an elegant gown made fierce by the presence of plate greaves and gauntlets - whipped around her knees in the freezing shockwave, showcasing the signature feathered wings embroidered on its back.

“Good,” Byleth said, readying her rapier once more. She stared down the Shadow’s cavernous eye sockets, deciding to go for one clean, decisive blow.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Sylvain was still holding his own; he looked a little winded, dust and dried blood streaking his black leather jacket, but he doggedly maintained their rear flank.

Reassured, Byleth crooked one finger underneath her horned half-mask and tugged, clenching a fist against the pain. She’d learned long ago that the ripped skin, the curtain of blood, were only illusions; upon return to the real world, all damage sustained here would disappear.

As the smooth white porcelain separated from her flesh, so, too, did an exhilarated grin spread across her face in its absence. A warm, welcome rush of adrenaline thrummed in her blood; she was free now. Unleashed.

“Nemesis,” she growled, making a duelist’s lunge at the Shadow’s heart. Her Persona’s roiling, aggressive presence coalesced at her back, propelling her forward and augmenting her strike. They shouted in unison, hers fortifying and his ferocious, as their blades pierced the monster’s skeletal form, fracturing its pitted sternum and traveling straight on through its spine; Byleth kicked her way out the other side, falling to the dry earth and rolling to soften her landing.

The Shadow fell after her in two halves, unmoving, its serrated bones reaching upward like fingers. A cloud of dust bloomed in the craters of its twin impacts.

Byleth got back to her feet, exhaling her battle rage and surveying the scene. The massive creature laid sundered and inert, crumbling slowly to fine gray ash, as all of the fallen ones did in this Palace; behind her, Sylvain and Ingrid had finished off the last of their pursuers, and no more looked to be arriving.

“You did it!” Sothis cheered them on through their shared navigation app, her voice emanating from three pockets simultaneously. “I do not sense any additional Shadows in this area.”

Sylvain planted the butt of his axe on the ground and leaned on it. “Finally,” he groaned, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of his face. “That’s enough clearing for today, right?”

Byleth flicked her eyes over him, over the tears in his clothing that revealed scuffed, bleeding skin underneath. Thanks to his near-superhuman fortitude, he took more risks in combat than his teammates, and usually ended up with more wounds to show for it - and since Byleth was never any good at knowing her own limits, Sylvain’s accumulated injuries acted as a timer of sorts.

“Mm,” she agreed, turning back to the expansive battlefield. Every so often, a dark stone monolith protruded from the dirt just off the blade-path, and on each one was carved a list of names. Aside from some recognizable surnames from school, they meant nothing to Byleth, but Sylvain had taken one look at them and blanched.

_ Gravestones _ , he’d said.

“Sothis, mark that one,” she said, inclining her head toward the nearest stone. “Tomorrow we’ll advance from there.”

“Indeed,” Sothis replied, and Byleth’s phone beeped - the Meta-Nav’s update alert. “It is done.”

Sylvain holstered his axe with an appreciative sigh. “Awesome. I have a history test to study for, and I’m not sure Ms. Casagranda would accept ‘killing monsters inside my traumatized friend’s heart’ as an excuse for failing it.”

“As if  _ that _ would be the reason, and not your otherwise ill-spent evenings,” Ingrid muttered, falling in beside Byleth as the three of them trudged back across the battlefield. “But- I’m glad, too. There’s a morning meeting for the equestrian club tomorrow.”

“On the weekend?” Sylvain made a face. “Ew. This is why I didn’t join any clubs.”

Byleth walked mutely between her two friends, content to listen in on their banter and keep a weather eye for any Shadow activity. She’d never really had friends before; Jeralt had moved her around too often for that, chasing security work to countless towns, big and small, all over Fodlan.

Usually, she’d just kept her head down in each new place until her father’s contract ended and they started the process all over again, packing their meager possessions onto their bikes and zooming away to the next town. The kids at whatever high school she landed in typically ignored her, and she did the same to them.

Here, though, staying under the radar was impossible. Her late entry, combined with complicated enrollment circumstances, had made her the talk of the senior classes from the start. It wasn’t every day that the prestigious Garreg Mach Academy admitted a dirt-poor nomad with a criminal record, after all.

Despite the gossip and the whispers, she’d been determined to complete her senior year without incident. Unfortunately, one Sylvain Jose Gautier apparently hadn’t received the ‘ostracize Byleth Eisner’ memo; day one, he’d plopped down beside her in homeroom and commenced flirting like his life depended on it.

Byleth had ignored him at first, but then they’d fallen into his sadistic older brother’s Palace together one day after school - fought their way out of it together - discovered these strange new powers together. And there was really nothing like a supernatural survival-horror experience to forge quick and sturdy friendship bonds between acquaintances.

“-Hey, Byleth, you there?” Sylvain asked, tilting his head to catch her eyes. The wide, manic red grin that stretched across his mask leered down at her.

She banished her pensive thoughts, rejoining the conversation with an, “Mm,” of confirmation.

“I asked if you wanted to catch a movie tomorrow,” he said, chuckling at her vague answer and blank face, “while we wait for Ingrid.”

“Codenames!” Sothis chided.

Sylvain slapped his pocket over his phone like he could silence the app that way. “Oh, come on! We’re almost out.”

It was true; up ahead, the sickly yellow sky was slowly transitioning to afternoon cobalt, the parched earth to asphalt.

“Can’t,” Byleth said simply, thinking of her Saturday plans with a faint smile.  
He snapped his fingers. “Oh, right! Your quest to tame Felix - _totally_ forgot, sorry.” The ironic drag to his voice said that he had forgotten exactly nothing. “How’s that going? He tried to fight you yet?”

The edges of Dimitri’s Palace faded completely, becoming the quaint corner park that marked its boundary. Likewise, their Metaverse outfits phased back into school uniforms and their deadly weapons reverted to mere replicas. As was customary, all three of them took a moment to hide these away. It wouldn’t do to draw any attention from the law.

“Oh, please tell me he hasn’t,” Ingrid said wearily. She took one look at Byleth’s hesitant shrug and sighed. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you both enjoy it.”

They very much did; in fact, sparring in the alley behind Leblanc had been a great outlet for Byleth - and for Felix, too, she suspected. She’d never been able to channel her anger into anything productive, like Ingrid could, or to push it away through escapism like Sylvain did; no, the only thing that worked for her was violence.

“He has,” Byleth said, straightening her uniform jacket. “And I do.”

Sylvain snorted a laugh as they reached a crosswalk. It was late in the day, after schools let out but before rush hour, so they only had to wait a short time for the lights to turn. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” he said with a grin to match his mask. “Enough to invite him over every week. Very subtle, I must say.”

She stared back at him evenly; his teasing jabs could rile Ingrid and Felix up in a heartbeat, but they’d never worked on Byleth. She’d heard much worse than this, from many more people, and much more often in the past - but it didn’t stop him from trying. 

Besides, there was nothing tease-worthy about her sparring sessions with Felix. 

They had a shared interest in swordfighting and a similar level of competency; it was only natural that they would eventually partner up for training. The frequency of their meetings didn’t have to mean anything else. 

Their subsequent chats over coffee at Leblanc didn’t have to mean anything, either.

But when Byleth opened her mouth to voice this, she found that the words just wouldn’t form. Sylvain’s grin got bigger and bigger until she was forced to avert her eyes, frowning and swiping a finger along one flushed cheekbone.

If only the masks persisted in the real world, she thought. Then, expressing herself could be as easy as a rip and a tear; then, she might be able to correctly voice what, exactly, she felt about Felix. 

Perhaps she should try it in the Metaverse.

“This is me,” she said, interrupting one of Ingrid’s oft-repeated reprimands about glibness. They’d reached the mouth of the side street that housed Cafe Leblanc, the coffee house that doubled as her actual house.

Sylvain and Ingrid stopped arguing only long enough to wave her off, then picked right back up again, their raised voices fading away into the hubbub of an early metropolitan evening.

The cafe’s lights were still on when Byleth pushed through the door; a few regulars inhabited some of the booths, sipping coffee and reading magazines. The television in the corner filled the room with fuzzy audio of the hourly news.

As always, Seteth stood behind the long bar with a cigarette in his hand and a dour look on his face - though it had, admittedly, been growing steadily softer over time.

“Ah, you’re back,” he said, and his voice only carried the barest whiff of disapproval; a solid improvement. After a few moments spent visibly struggling for topics, he added, “How was school?”

Byleth paused at the counter. They’d agreed to make a mutual effort to respect and understand one another, and it had, indeed, transformed their relationship from strained and antagonistic to something almost resembling friendship - or, at least, as friendly as one could get with one’s court-approved guardian.

“It was fine.” Against her nature, for the sake of their arrangement, she forced herself to elaborate, “I walked home with Sylvain and Ingrid.”

Seteth brightened, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh? And will the Fraldarius boy still be visiting tomorrow?”

She relaxed somewhat at his positive reaction, replying with a curt, “Mm,” and then, before he could comment on her slip-up, she added, “Yes. He will.”

“Good.” Seteth rapped his knuckles on the bar top. “These are beneficial connections, Byleth. Especially Miss Galatea. They’ll be good influences for you.”

He often went on about what sort of ‘influences’ Byleth should garner, from people to ideas, that would lead her away from a life of crime; she tolerated it, as she usually did, with a nod and as much of a smile as she could muster.

“I’m sure you have plenty of studying to do,” he said, retrieving a covered plate of curry from under a warming lamp. “Take this up with you.”

Another small improvement; just two months prior, she’d have been left to scavenge for her own dinner after school.

“Thank you, Seteth,” she enunciated, lingering in the cafe just long enough to ensure that her words had been received favorably, then bounding upstairs to the loft.

\---

1185 / 4 / 19 

Friday // Evening

\---

**Ingrid 7:15**

13 days left. We made good progress today.

**Sylvain 7:16**

yeah! go us! we’ll save dima’s heart for sure

**Me 7:18**

meet at the park same time tomorrow?

**Sothis 7:18**

Great work, everyone! \o/

**Ingrid 7:19**

Works for me. Thank you, Sothis. Your guidance was helpful, as always.

**Sylvain 7:19**

works for me too...if your boyfriend will be gone by then ;)

**Sothis 7:20**

[ _ Palace infiltration _ reminder set for  _ Saturday, Great Tree Moon 20th _ at  _ 3:00 PM _ ]

**Me 7:20**

you are uninvited

**Ingrid 7:20**

I second this motion.

**Sothis 7:21**

[ _ Sylvain _ has been removed from the  _ Palace infiltration _ reminder notification list]

**Sylvain 7:21**

hey!! not funny you guys

**Sylvain 7:21**

what will you do without your tank??

**Me 7:22**

i’ll learn a healing spell

**Sothis 7:23**

I was only joking! Was that not a hilarious joke?

**Ingrid 7:24**

It was a really good one, Sothis.

**Sylvain 7:24**

it wasn’t!!!!!!!!

\---

1185 / 4 / 20

Saturday // Morning

\---

Seteth never opened the cafe on Saturdays. Even though it was a prime business day to sell coffee, it was also the one day of the week he devoted entirely to his daughter, Flayn.

Conveniently, that also meant Byleth had the whole building to herself all day, and with Seteth’s growing trust came his permission to have friends over and use the brewing equipment in his absence.

“I have been meaning to ask you,” Sothis said, her high-pitched voice muffled somewhat by several layers of fabric. “How, exactly, do you plan to progress your bond with the Emperor arcana?”

Byleth took her phone out and gave it a wry look; she knew Sothis couldn’t see it, but still preferred to treat the mysterious entity like she would another human.

“His name is Felix,” she said patiently, setting her phone on the bar and turning back to contemplate the jars upon jars of various coffee beans that Seteth kept stocked in the cafe. “And- I don’t know.”

Every connection was different, she’d discovered. Each one of them tethered back to her heart, and they all had the potential to grow, but she was still figuring out the details. 

Sylvain favored action. His tether tended to strengthen after overcoming physical obstacles together, like when they’d defeated Miklan’s deformed Shadow-self with a coordinated dual attack. Blood-soaked and bone-tired, leaning on each other to stumble back to the real world, the Death arcana had flared brighter within her.

Ingrid, so far, seemed to value companionship. Her bond deepened during private moments of support; last time, the two of them had simply been sorting through pictures of Ingrid’s family, reminiscing about times long gone and sharing hopes for the future. In the space between one breath and the next, Byleth had felt a pull on the Chariot’s line - and then, all at once, it was more resilient.

Her other bonds were much the same. Seteth wanted to care for others, and be cared for in return; Flayn just wanted to be safe and independent. Sothis craved a meaningful connection to humanity.

Felix’s progression was - less linear. Usually, a Metaverse contract manifested within a few weeks of getting to know someone, but his never did, even two moons into their acquaintance. 

In fact, it only formed after she’d first knocked him down in the alley. Only then - when Byleth had him pinned with an elbow and the dull edge of a practice sword - had the Emperor’s tether snapped to life between them, taut and humming.

_ He wants to be challenged _ , she’d theorized at the time.

The second time it strengthened, they’d been quietly talking over coffee about hardship and loss. He’d experienced more than his fair share of it between the deaths of his mother and brother, and had some valuable - if blunt - advice on how to move past Jeralt’s. In the split second after Byleth had thanked him for his insights, the Emperor had bolstered itself.

That night, she’d refined her hypothesis.  _ He wants to help people _ , she’d thought.  _ Like Seteth _ . She’d been confident that their first interaction could be viewed through that lens, too, and adjusted her approach to their friendship accordingly.

But then the most recent advancement threw a proverbial wrench in the works. They hadn’t even been doing anything significant at the time; Byleth had just acquired a new flavor of coffee and Felix had agreed to try it. When she’d pushed the cup across the counter, their hands had lightly brushed together-

And then the Emperor’s tether had spontaneously strengthened.

She was still struggling to define that one - struggling, especially, to define what it had done to  _ her _ end of the line. They still met every week for coffee and sparring, but there was a definite change in their bond. They hesitated to get too close, even when fighting, and the once-comfortable silences that stretched between them in the cafe were now heavy and awkward.

“Well, you must try  _ something _ ,” Sothis insisted. “I can feel your discomfort, too, you know, and it is most unpleasant. I’m of half a mind to consult the others about it.”

Byleth set a glass carafe heavily onto the bar. “Please don’t.” The mere thought of  _ more _ teasing from Sylvain had her frowning.

Leblanc’s glass front door opened in a tinkling of bells and Felix walked in, dropping a long leather bag onto one of the bar chairs and then himself on another.

“What’s wrong?” He asked abruptly, folding his arms on the countertop. He was always like this - eschewing greeting or formality in favor of substance.

Byleth shook her head, resuming her search for brewing materials. “Nothing,” she said, a practiced lie, as she reached around under the bar for filters. “Did you rush?”

He stiffened, regarding her in narrow-eyed suspicion until she reached up to tap the side of her head. Felix did the same, coming away with several spring-green leaves that were previously tangled in his hair.

“Ah,” he said, wariness turning to self-consciousness as he shoved the leaves into the pocket of his hoodie - a strange choice, since there was a trash can right next to Byleth. To spare him any further unease, she decided not to mention it.

“My alarm didn’t go off,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be late.”

She glanced at the time on her phone. “You weren’t.”

“Yeah, because I-” Felix bit off the rest of the rest of his sentence with a rueful grunt, readjusting his posture so that he could rest both elbows on the counter. “Never mind. What’s the flavor today?”

Byleth brought up a white paper bag, patting it reverently. “Almyran dark roast. It arrived yesterday.”

“Huh.” Felix watched her portion out some of the near-black beans into a grinder. “But you already have so many of those.”

She paused, finger poised over the grinder’s ‘on’ switch, and slid her eyes up to meet his. “All dark roasts are unique, Felix,” she said gravely, and then pressed the button before he could retort.

He glared at her for the full thirty seconds of the machine’s operation. When its grating motor noises had subsided, he asked sharply, “What’s so special about this one, then?”

“Well,” she said, tipping the grounds into a filter, then placing it atop the carafe, “I’ve told you before how soil affects flavor. The type of soil this one prefers can only be found in Almyra, and it gives the beans a spicy flavor after roasting.”

Carefully, she poured hot water over the filter, intent on her task. “You enjoyed the Brigid variety so much, and this is a close relative. I’ve been tracking the listing for a while and it went on sale last week-” she raised her head and went quiet.

Felix was smiling at her, soft and intrigued, with his chin rested on one open palm. “You only talk a lot when it’s about coffee,” he observed. 

An infectious smile stretched across her own face; she barely remembered to lift the boiler’s nozzle to stop the waterflow. “I like it,” she said, then slapped herself mentally.  _ No shit _ .

“I like making it for people. For you,” she clarified.

Felix’s eyes widened like a startled cat’s. Byleth winced away from the reaction, confused, but then a familiar, mortifying wave washed over her: the realization that she’d said something embarrassing.

Her ears burned; she focused on the carafe, on the steam rising from the saturated grounds - anything but his dumbfounded gaze. 

“Uh,” Felix said, shifting in his chair. After an excruciatingly long moment, he continued gently, “I- like it, too.”

Byleth slowly worked up the courage to look at him again, somewhat comforted by his similarly flustered state - as she’d suspected, openness of this sort didn’t come naturally to either of them. They stared at each other across the counter, unmoving, until the rhythmic background  _ drip-drip-drip _ of water into the carafe gradually slowed to a stop.

“Good,” she finally said.

It had sounded much better in her head. She’d been going for an enthusiastic, ‘ _ I’m so glad you feel that way _ ,’ type message - but it came out flat and dismissive, even to her own ears. Perhaps she should say the longer version. Perhaps, if she really tried, she could force her mouth to create all of those words.

Maybe in a coffee context-

“Good,” Felix replied with a stiff nod, jolting Byleth out of her thoughts. He didn’t look angry or disappointed, though; on the contrary, he seemed satisfied with the interaction.  _ Hm _ .

She filled two cups from the carafe, presenting his without anything extra, as he liked it, and then stirring a spoonful of sugar into her own.

“Thank you,” he said, peering down into the dark coffee with knit brows; just when Byleth was on the cusp of asking what was wrong, he jerked his head up decisively. “Are you going to see Sylvain again later?”

She blinked, replying uncertainly, “And Ingrid, yes.” His curiosity about their Metaverse meetups was getting more acute by the day; it had already doubled in size after Ingrid joined. And their excuse was - well. It wasn’t what Byleth would call ‘sustainable.’

“For  _ karaoke _ ?” He asked flatly.

She took a sip for cover and made a mental note to prod Sylvain for a better alibi. “Mm.” 

Felix eyed her dubiously from behind the rim of his own cup, but then his attention quickly turned downward. “Oh, this is good,” he said, mildly shocked, as if he hadn’t expected to like the taste. “You’re right. It’s spicy.”

Her heart did a flip at his pleasantly surprised expression. It suited him much better, she thought, than a scowl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sylvain, after getting stabbed in front of byleth: lol nice * _rank 9 death, sylvain will now die for you_ *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the second half of the original story! next chapter is new content :D
> 
> (there's new end notes for your troubles)

\---

1185 / 4 / 20 

Saturday // Afternoon

\---

After the coffee was gone, they moved to the alley, using the wooden swords in Felix’s bag to beat each other senseless - as was their weekend tradition.

Byleth didn’t care much to keep score, since this was mostly catharsis for her, but she knew that Felix had a permanent running tally in his head. He didn’t need to vocalize whenever she was leading him, either; it showed on his face.

All too soon, though, she had to break off training to head out. Felix relented without much complaint, which was odd. Stranger, still, he left in the direction of his house instead of the neighborhood gym, and everyone who was at least tangentially associated with him knew he preferred the gym to nearly any other building.

Byleth grabbed her gear - tastefully hidden inside her school bag - and headed for the meetup spot, typing rapidly into their group chat the whole way.

\---

**Me 2:54**

we need to make a game plan for felix

**Sylvain 2:55**

yeah? like for your first date or

**Me 2:55**

he’s getting suspicious of “karaoke nights”

**Me 2:56**

=_=...

**Ingrid 2:56**

I knew we should have gone with batting practice.

**Sylvain 2:57**

no dude he would definitely want to get in on that

**Sylvain 2:58**

trust me. karaoke was the best decision

**Me 2:58**

well it won’t work forever

**Ingrid 2:59**

We’ll figure it out. Let’s focus on helping Dimitri for now.

**Sylvain 2:59**

agreed 

**Sothis 3:00**

[Reminder notification for  _ Palace infiltration _ !!]

**Sothis 3:00**

It is time!

**Sylvain 3:01**

our own leader, late...what’s this world coming to, ingrid

**Ingrid 3:02**

I’m right beside you. Use your words.

**Me 3:02**

i’m almost there

\---

“And there she is,” Sylvain declared as Byleth jogged up to the park. He and Ingrid were swaying idly on a swing set, sharing a bag of chips, and oriented pointedly away from the intersection beyond the corner.

Byleth’s guilt over tardiness became an entirely different sort of guilt; by losing track of time, she’d forced these two to linger beside a source of great trauma for the both of them. She’d only picked up bits and pieces of what actually happened - mostly from Ingrid, and sometimes from Felix during their hushed cafe conversations - but still felt like too much of an outsider to ask for details. 

She just knew that people had died here; many people, including Felix’s brother and Dimitri’s parents.

“Sorry,” she said, plopping into a third swing to catch her breath.

Ingrid trailed one foot through the grass to halt herself. “No problem. Now that we’re all here, what’s the plan for today?” She tossed half a bottle of juice to Byleth, who downed it gratefully.

“I estimate that you have explored around twenty percent of this Palace,” Sothis commented from everyone’s pockets.

Sylvain whooshed by as he continued swinging, giving the other two a mere glimpse of his disbelief. “That’s it? Are you sure?”

“Do not  _ question _ my expertise,” Sothis said sternly, then returned to her usual, cheerful demeanor. “This Palace is quite a bit bigger than your brother’s. It will take longer to secure an infiltration route.”

Ingrid stared down at her feet for a moment, her face pinched and worried. “Hey,” she said, turning slowly toward Byleth. “Based on what you guys told me about- about cognition, and all that stuff-” she waved one hand vaguely in the air, “-does that mean Dimitri’s desires are even more distorted than  _ Miklan’s _ ?”

The heavy question prompted Sylvain to stop swinging; his remaining momentum left him swaying like a concerned pendulum while he deliberated.

“Miklan wanted ‘to take from others, what was taken from him,’” Byleth said matter-of-factly. She and Sylvain had figured this out halfway through the Palace, based on the incoherent raving they could hear constantly echoing from the top of its crumbling tower.

Sylvain gripped the chains of his swing, asking with an undercurrent of dread, “So whatever Dimitri wants is...worse than robbery?”

Byleth didn’t really have an answer for that; based on the terrain of this Palace, she could make some guesses, but nothing her friends would probably want to hear.

“That’s just one more reason to take it from him. Quickly.” Ingrid sat up straighter, fixing the other two with firm looks. “Right?”

“Right,” Byleth said, hopping out of the swing. “Sothis, take us in.”

“Right!” Sothis sang. “Beginning navigation.”

“Right,” Sylvain half-heartedly agreed, eyes straying past the park to the innocuous intersection as it warped and shifted into a body-strewn battlefield.

As usual, when the transformation was complete, the three of them wore their Metaverse outfits instead of their casual clothes. Sylvain had always enjoyed his look; he resembled a stylized street punk, all leather and studs, and his mask gave him a perpetual, leering smile.

Ingrid often voiced displeasure with her own outfit. Why wear any armor at all, she argued, if her vital organs weren’t even covered? However, in stark opposition to her claims, Byleth sometimes caught her admiring the slight flare to her knee-length skirt.

For Byleth’s part, she was more comfortable here, in her fitted trench coat and tall boots, than she ever was in a real-world garment. The weight of her expressionless white half-mask was comforting; its presence meant that she was  _ free _ , at least for a short time. Its long horns curled backward, following the shape of her head, symbolizing so much more, now, than an old and derogatory nickname.

The group pushed up the same blade-path as before, encountering little resistance. Sothis reliably led them to the monolith that Byleth had marked; like all the others, it towered over the rest of the plain, providing both cover and a prime lookout point.

“I’ll check the Shadows’ patrols,” Byleth said, detaching a grappling gun from her belt. “You two - keep an eye out for scouts.”

She aimed the device at the top of the structure, where its smooth, dark stone tapered into a wicked iron spike, and fired. The gun’s clawed hook wrapped neatly around the metal and stuck; Byleth shimmied up the attached rope, followed by Ingrid’s and Sylvain’s speedy acknowledgements.

“There’s a shift in the atmosphere today,” Sothis mused. “What do you see?”

Byleth hauled herself up to the spike, looping one arm around it for support and shading her eyes. “Roving packs of Shadows again,” she reported, surveying the wide field methodically. “Two along our path, heading north.”

The shambling groups of skeletons tended to pick a direction and stick to it until they hit an obstacle - usually one of the monoliths - and so they were easy to ambush, if approached from behind. Byleth wasn’t too concerned about them.

“What do you mean about the atmosphere?” She asked, turning her gaze upward. The air felt the same as yesterday - dry, hot, and stagnant. The sun still hung low and crimson in a cloudless, yellow sky.

Sothis hummed; through the phone’s speaker, it was more like buzzing. “I cannot rightly say. It’s as though something is exerting a great pressure-”

“Wait,” Byleth interjected, honing in on the throne at the center of the Palace. She could barely make out details from here, but she could swear that Dimitri - who had been motionless and hunched over thus far - had turned his head in her direction. “-I think the ruler just moved.”

“Uh, Fiend?” Sylvain called up, accompanied by a few rapid, metallic taps on stone. “We’ve got company down here!”

She checked the base of the monolith, ready to join a fight, and then stopped short; Sylvain and Ingrid had backed away from the structure with weapons drawn, but there were no enemies in the area. 

As she opened her mouth to request more information, the tapping started up again, and then movement near the base caught her eye; a skeletal arm protruded from underneath, gouging its way out of the dirt, and its dented metal armor struck the side of the monolith with each stilted, jerky movement.

“Goddess, analyze,” Byleth directed, giving the distant throne one final, regretful glance before devoting her full attention to the situation at hand. Whatever was going on with Dimitri would have to wait.

A second arm joined the first, clawing away the dirt at a slow but steady pace.  _ Gravestones _ , she thought uneasily as the creature dragged itself free.

“I can divine nothing about this Shadow.” Sothis sounded worried; that was never a good sign. “I didn’t even detect its presence. Please- be careful!”

No information, then. That was fine, Byleth rationalized, scanning around them swiftly to ensure there were no other enemies approaching. They’d fought tough battles blindly before.

“Charmer, Wings,” she said, bracing her feet against the side of the monolith, “hit it with elemental attacks first. Search for a weakness.”

Sylvain ripped off his mask like it was nothing, confidently shouting, “Gautier!”

A knight in massive armor materialized above him, brandishing a lance; at the same time, one of the Shadow’s exposed arms ignited in a plume of bright orange flame. 

Byleth expected the fire to fully engulf its desiccated form - but soon after the spell hit, the flame winked out. If the Shadow had felt any pain, it didn’t show it, merely continuing to scrabble at the ground.

“Uhh,” Sylvain said, shrugging. “Your turn?”

Ingrid’s eyes hardened resolutely and she invoked Daphnel’s magic; this time, toothed spears of ice impaled the creature from multiple angles, caging it against the monolith and blocking its path. It strained against the barrier, rattling and shaking its arms, but the restraints held - for now.

Byleth could just about make out its head beneath the thick ice. She drew her sword, preparing for a precision strike.

“Fiend,” Sothis cautioned, her voice crackling in the magic-heavy air, “this Shadow is different from the others. I’m not sure if your usual methods will work.”

Below them, the entire ice formation shuddered, hairline fractures spreading throughout its glassy bulk; she had to act soon. Byleth grunted, adjusting her body for an ideal trajectory. 

“If I can break it, then it will die like any other Shadow,” she said, more to convince herself than Sothis, and let go of the iron spike.

Scorching wind howled in her ears and stung her eyes as she fell, only worsening when she tore off her mask and called forth her Persona, but she pushed through it. Nemesis accumulated over her shoulder, bellowing his eternal fury to the gale, pressing her ever faster downward.

The glacial prison exploded before she could reach it. Shards of razor-sharp ice rocketed out in all directions, breaking chunks off of the monolith and gouging deep holes in the earth. Sylvain and Ingrid jumped back in time to avoid the brunt of the impact, but Byleth’s course was set; she silently, steadfastly endured several shallow cuts as the dagger-like pieces sliced past.

The Shadow rose to its feet amid the burst, freed of its confines. Like the other skeletal creatures wandering the Palace, it was mostly bone, with patches of withered, leathery skin and ragged fabric clinging to its joints. A few locks of dark hair remained matted to its skull, falling to the side as it looked up at Byleth’s descent.

It raised a rusted sword, frost splintering off its arm like glass, and met her strike. Despite her speed - despite Nemesis’s forceful aid - the Shadow effortlessly turned her blade, sending her careening away.

She was going too fast for a smooth touchdown, flinching when her leading leg came down hard on the packed earth, but kept her footing; from this angle, the Shadow was still obscured in a cloud of dust and icy particles. She listened intently for signs of movement, but heard none.

“Fiend, you okay?” Sylvain yelled from somewhere to her right. “Wings?”

From a bit farther away, footsteps shuffled toward them. “Here,” Ingrid replied, but she sounded more subdued than usual.

“I’m fine,” Byleth said. “Wings, are you injured? Goddess, what’s the Shadow’s status?” Something about the creature’s parry was bothering her; she’d never seen its like from another Shadow, but the style was - she’d seen it before.

“The Shadow has sustained minimal damage,” Sothis answered from three locations. Byleth took a few more steps toward the other sources. “It’s currently stationary. Its vision is likely impaired by these conditions.”

So their enemy was just as blind as they were; Byleth could count that as a victory, at least.

“I’m uninjured,” Ingrid said, then hesitantly continued, “Syl- Charmer, did you...see it?”

Sylvain made a small, confused noise. “The Shadow? No, I was too distracted by Fiend’s sick moves.” A short time passed in which Ingrid, uncharacteristically, offered no barbed rebuttal. 

He asked, a fraction less upbeat, “Why?”

“The cloud is clearing,” Byleth said, falling into a combat stance. “Eyes up.”

The process was slow, but the air was, indeed, becoming less opaque as the sparkling haze dispersed. Beyond it, the Shadow stood immobile, holding its old, nicked blade at the ready.

“On my signal,” she called, but received no responses. She glanced quickly to her right; Ingrid and Sylvain, still partly concealed by the ice-dust, were both fixated on the Shadow’s sword.

In the Metaverse, Sylvain was always smiling. Even now, with his eyes creased and sunken in horror, his mask bore a crazed, cherry-red slash underneath them.

Ingrid prided herself on her level head in combat. She’d kept it at all times during even their most intense battles in this Palace - all times except for now. Her silver lance quivered in her hands, sturdy armor clanking as she took an unsure, stumbling step backward.

“ _ Ingrid, _ ” the Shadow moaned, its jaw dropping open to issue the hollow sound. It creaked as it advanced through the thinning cloud.

Byleth immediately put herself between the creature and its target, preemptively hooking a finger underneath her mask. “What’s going on?” She asked sharply, glancing back at her friends. “Why does it know your name?”

Ingrid stared past Byleth, eyes locked to the Shadow. “Glenn,” she whispered, ghostly pale and shivering. “I’m so-”

Byleth stopped short of tearing off her mask. Glenn  _ Fraldarius _ ? Felix’s murdered brother?

In a heartbeat, Sylvain was beside them, brandishing his axe. “Ingrid,” he said in a soothing tone, turned slightly to address her while keeping his eyes on the Shadow. For once, Sothis didn’t make any remark about codenames. “That’s not Glenn. None of this is real, remember?”

His hands were shaking, too, Byleth noticed. She nodded to him, remembering his own crisis when confronted by Shadow-Miklan, and he returned it - a message of solidarity sent and received. 

“I’m- it’s not-” Ingrid’s eyes flickered back and forth between the Shadow and Sylvain, eventually settling on the latter. She grasped the shaft of her lance more securely, gaining confidence as she spoke, “Not real. It’s not real. Of course.”

“ _ Sylvain...Ingrid… _ ” The Shadow took another burdened step toward them, pieces of ancient, ragged Kingdom-style armor hanging off its frame and clattering against bone. 

“ _ Join me and fulfill your duty, _ ” it commanded, guttural and haunting. “ _ Spill your blood for the crown. _ ”

Ingrid reared back as if it had struck her. “Spill our-? This is-” she moved up to form a defensive line with the other two, pointing her lance at the creature and asserting, “Glenn would  _ never _ say that!”

“Charmer is correct: what you see here is nothing more than a projection of Dimitri’s innermost feelings,” Sothis explained. “It is not the person you knew; it is simply a construct.”

“I know.” Ingrid grit her teeth, speaking with subdued conviction, “I know, it’s just- Dimitri has it so wrong.”

The Shadow had stopped, bones grating together as it tilted its head toward Ingrid - almost like it was listening for a response. When she finished speaking, it cracked its neck to the other side.

“Yeah, he does,” Sylvain agreed dryly. “Trust me, I’ve got some choice words for the guy after we find his Treasure.”

The cloud had almost completely dispersed; it no longer hindered their sightlines, but overlaid their surroundings with a grainy, film-like effect. 

“ _ Wrong _ ,” the Shadow echoed, resuming its footsteps with that same, sickening grinding noise. “ _ Treasure _ .  _ So, you have forsaken your destinies _ .”

The three held their ground, raising their weapons in tandem. It was useless to argue with a Shadow, especially if it wasn’t a Palace’s ruler; Byleth and Sylvain had learned that the hard way, and it seemed Ingrid had figured it out on her own.

“Physical attacks only,” Byleth said, making ready to remove her mask. “Try to surround it.”

The other two accepted the order with short grunts, watching their target’s movements intently.

“ _ I will punish you in His Highness’s place _ ,” the Shadow intoned, raising its sword high overhead. “ _ Accept your deaths, traitors; by my hand or an enemy’s, your sacrifice is inevitable. _ ”

Sothis advised from their pockets, “It is winding up for a heavy attack!”

“Shit,” Sylvain muttered, dashing off to the side. “Hey, asshole!” He yelled, pulling out his automatic rifle and unloading a full magazine. The bullets mostly sailed through the gaps in the Shadow’s bones, but some plinked off its piecemeal armor and chipped the plates of its skull and chest.

The creature changed targets with a sudden agility that made Byleth’s blood run cold; its whole body creaked as it brought its blade around in a whistling arc that cut through the dust-fog and several bullets - and then, ultimately, Sylvain himself.

He’d dodged. He’d  _ dodged _ ; Byleth saw it; this was a routine, attention-grabbing maneuver for him and he knew how to avoid damage from it, so how…?

“Sylvain!” Ingrid screamed; her own attack went wide in her distraction, but she used the movement to reach her teammate quickly, shielding him from a secondary blow with a briskly erected barrier of ice.

Byleth planted her sword in the dirt and vaulted over the barrier, abandoning her previous strategy. “This Shadow is too strong,” she decided, eyeing the deep, debilitating gash along Sylvain’s back and left arm. “We’re retreating. Break sight lines.”

“I  _ may _ have miscalculated,” Sylvain conceded, hissing when he reached up to prod at the wound. He attempted a laugh to lighten the mood, but it came out strained and unconvincing.

Ingrid took in his state with tight, worried eyes. She set her jaw and answered stiffly, “Understood,” grabbing Sylvain around the waist and hauling him away. They left a trail of red-stained earth in their wake.

Byleth looked back to the Shadow; it was hacking away at the ice wall, making the same, gradual progress as when it had dug itself out of the ground. The obstacle would buy them some time to run, but not much.

When she caught up to the others, they’d made it behind the monolith. Ingrid had propped Sylvain up against its side and was administering first-aid. The restorative ointment - enhanced by the arcane properties of the Metaverse - helped to stop the blood flow, but he wasn’t doing any more fighting today.

“Can you run?” Byleth asked, pulling out her own healing items.

Sylvain refused them with a stubborn shake of his head. “I’m good, I’m good, I just-” he got to his feet, clutching his injured arm, “-I underestimated the target.”

“I’ll say,” Ingrid agreed with a wavering smile.

Byleth inspected his unsteady legs, growing more concerned by the second. He’d need constant support if they were to make it out in time - and even then, it might not be fast enough. 

“Goddess,” she instructed, turning in the direction of the exit, “take us to the nearest-”

The rest of the directive died on her tongue.

A few meters away from them, with a leather bag slung over one shoulder and a bewildered, borderline indignant look on his face, was Felix.

“What-” his voice was as parched as the environment, wispy and unsure, “-is this?” His eyes flicked from Byleth - her outlandish clothing, her blank mask - to Ingrid, and then to Sylvain, where they narrowed to slits. “What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, no,” Byleth whispered, looking back over her shoulder. The other two had frozen, rigid as a paused video; on the opposite side of the monolith, the crystalline impacts of metal on ice grew faster, more insistent.

“Felix,” she said as calmly as she could, “this place is dangerous. We need to leave at once. I’ll tell you everything outside.”

The explanation only seemed to incense him further, tipping his confusion solidly into anger. “ _ Dangerous _ ?” He demanded, stalking toward her. “No. Tell me now.”

Byleth barked a nervous laugh.  _ Of course _ , she thought wryly,  _ speaking of miscalculations _ . Of course Felix wouldn’t follow an order like that without question.

“Why did you come here? Why does it look like this?” He gestured all around the Palace with a sweep of his arm. “And- what’s over there?”

Her eyes slid to the place he’d meant; the corner of the monolith, behind which the Shadow’s incessant slashes rang out like a ticking timer.

Ingrid shook her head, implicitly entreating Byleth to ignore his question. She, along with Sylvain, was still immobilized by Felix’s sudden arrival - or, more likely, by his proximity to this particular Shadow.

“Answer me, damn it,” Felix snarled, stopping directly in front of Byleth. His bearing was fierce, intimidating, but she saw the insecurity beyond it, welling up and threatening to consume him. “Did you think I couldn’t handle this- whatever this is? Did you trust  _ them _ \- but not  _ me _ ?”

Her eyes snapped to his. The Emperor pulsed wildly in her chest, a second heartbeat, and she felt the weight of his doubt as keenly as if it were her own. In a single instant, all of her evolving theories, all of his seemingly disjointed motivations, melded together into a simple truth:

_ Felix wants to be valued _ .

Her lips parted, ready to refute him, ready to spill forth everything she’d been holding back - but any potential reply was promptly swallowed up by the piercing, acute shattering of ice.

They’d run out of time.

Byleth hastily packed away her complicated feelings and ducked, yanking him down with her, as a mass of frozen debris sailed overhead. It crashed to the ground nearby, heralding the arrival of the Shadow, which lumbered into view with a deceptively unstable gait.

“Felix,” she said firmly. “Take Sylvain and go. Now. Back the direction you came.”

Perhaps it was the urgency in her voice, or the projectile that had barely missed smearing them into the dirt, but Felix - for once in his life - obeyed. He darted to Sylvain, wound an arm around his waist, and started pulling him along the blade-path.

Byleth exhaled in relief and, at her side, Ingrid echoed it. They shared a fleeting, resolute look, and moved to flank the Shadow. Retreat maneuvers were nothing new; they just had to find a way to slow it down.

She and Ingrid were fast - much more nimble than Sylvain - and suited for quick, accurate strikes. They zipped around the creature, staying low and cautious, slicing at its limbs and then withdrawing from its counterattack range.

But prioritizing safety over damage had its drawbacks, too. They weren’t doing much to halt its advance, and it seemed to be bent on reaching Sylvain - on reaching the most vulnerable target, she’d posited.

She was wrong.

It was only after its jaw fell open again, agape and grotesque, and it groaned, “ _ Felix _ ,” did its true objective become clear.

A short ways away, Felix stopped dead on the path like he’d been struck with a paralysis effect; Sylvain stumbled forward from the sudden lack of support, catching himself with the shaft of his axe.

The Shadow stopped walking, too, deflecting blows but initiating no more of its own attacks.

“Hold,” Byleth said, lowering her weapon and circling around to interpose herself between the creature and Felix.

A moment later, Ingrid joined her. “What is it doing?” She asked lowly, keeping a wary eye on its distinctive sword.

“I don’t know.” Byleth chewed on her bottom lip. “Ice barrier on my signal.”

Ingrid assented with a clipped hum.

Meanwhile, behind them, Felix had turned to look over his shoulder, taking in the Shadow’s details through one bloodshot eye.

“ _ My brother _ ,” the skeletal creature wailed, “ _ why do you aid these traitors? Do you not understand our duty? _ ”

“That’s not Glenn,” Sylvain whispered fervently. “Felix, that thing’s not real; it’s just Dimitri’s impression of him-”

“I know. Glenn’s dead,” Felix stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He jerked his chin down the path. “-So, the boar is responsible for this?”

Sylvain could only nod and say bluntly, “Yeah.”

Felix scoffed and spun to face the Shadow, addressing it in a bold and disdainful tone, “And what is our  _ duty _ , pray tell?”

Shadow-Glenn’s body creaked as its upper half swiveled toward Dimitri. It raised its sword arm to the center of its chest, holding the blade up perfectly straight in an ancient Kingdom weapon salute.

Felix remained statue-still; only his eyes followed the movement, tightening when they recognized the distant figure sitting on the throne.

“ _ We shield the line of Blaiddyd even unto death _ ,” the Shadow said, ragged and mournful. “ _ Come - cast off your future. Preserve your feckless liege. _ ”

In the short window while its notice was elsewhere, Byleth muttered, “Wings,” and a barricade of shimmering ice, longer and thicker than the previous one, rose from the ground in front of the Shadow, completely blocking it off.

It howled at the impediment, slamming bodily against it before taking up its sword once more, but Ingrid was ready this time; she continued to channel the magic, closing the wall around the creature’s body like a tightening fist.

“Good,” Byleth said, pivoting on her heel, but then the rest of her breath - instead of spurring everyone to action - hissed out between her teeth. 

Felix was still in the center of the path, feet planted firmly and showing no signs of moving. Both hands were pressed to his forehead, covering most of his face except his mouth, which had stretched into an incredulous, twitching grin.

“Is he-?” Sylvain asked. The air buzzed faintly around them like radio static, pressured and alive; the final moments before a thunderstorm.

Byleth stepped backward. “I think so.”

“Indeed,” Sothis confirmed. “He is awakening to his inner self.”

Ingrid had to focus on her barrier, altering its density and shape to keep the Shadow from breaching it. Her eyes, though, were full of pity; it had only been a moon since she’d done this, herself.

“Dimitri,” Felix spat, spreading his fingers so he could glare at the throne through the gaps. “Is this what you thought of Glenn? Is this what you think of us?”

A cynical, sputtering laugh ground out of his throat, dry as bone. “I knew you were twisted, but this- this is- just what do you think he died for?  _ Huh _ ?”

Wind, hot and suffocating, swirled around his feet in a vortex, kicking up a stream of loose dust. It spiralled up his body, lifting a few loose strands of hair from his face. 

The atmosphere - the material of the Metaverse - the fuzzy, insubstantial veil between worlds - pulsed once, going red around the edges. The entire Palace waited in suspense for a single second; nobody moved, not even the Shadow in its frozen prison.

And then Felix buckled at the knees, falling heavily to the dirt. He clutched at his temples with white-knuckled hands, bending nearly in half and grunting as he grappled with an invisible tormentor.

Byleth let out a shaky breath, aching to rush to his side, but she knew he had to endure this trial alone - just as she had when Nemesis first awoke. Just as she’d witnessed in two others. The process was painful, sure. Nerve-rending. But it was also deeply personal; the decision to accept oneself could come only from within.

Over the clipped, rasping sounds of distress, cutting through the noise like a knife, a reverberating voice with no clear point of origin spoke:

“-Oh?”

Another presence joined them on the path - something ageless and potent and familiar. It hovered above Felix, formless for now, and that same voice inquired, “Are you finally ready?”

He couldn’t answer, could do nothing but watch as a line of ethereal light encircled his feet, spreading upward and shrouding him in diaphanous blue. 

“Ready to fight back?” The voice asked, cold and inquisitive. Felix bit his lip to silence himself, though his chest still rumbled with indistinct anguish.

“Ready to assert your place?”

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth; he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders trembling with exertion.

“If so,” the voice declared, pointed and ringing, “then say my name and forge our contract. I am thou, and thou art I-”

Like torrents from a broken dam, a rough scream of agony burst from Felix’s mouth; he threw his head back with the force of it, howling to the red sun. Covering his face, displaying a permanently twisted, furious expression, was a teal-green demon mask.

“-and now it is time, my defiant blood, to  _ make _ them hear you!”

“ _ Fraldarius _ !” He shouted, raw and jagged, as he wrenched the mask off. That nebulous presence above him fizzled and consolidated into a woman wielding a lance and mounted upon a white pegasus; she grinned and held her weapon aloft.

Byleth caught a flicker of brilliance overhead, like a sputtering lightbulb about to burst, and then the world went white.

A deafening crash accompanied the light, thoroughly overloading her senses - but then, an instant later, both dissipated all at once. She raised her head and realized she’d covered it; she opened her eyes and realized she’d closed them.

Where their adversary, Dimitri’s cognitive projection of Glenn Fraldarius, had been, there was now just a smoking fissure in the earth, blackened at its edges and smelling of acrid ozone - not a trace of bone or ice remained. Electricity sizzled in the magic’s aftermath, dancing fractal paths through the air.

“Sound off,” Byleth called, but her voice was distant and fuzzy in her ears. Dimly, she hoped that hearing damage, like physical damage, would fade when they returned to the real world; it would be rather difficult to explain to Seteth, otherwise.

“Here,” Ingrid responded immediately, pushing herself onto her elbows. It looked as though, being closest to the blast, it had thrown her a short distance away.

Soon after, and also from the ground, Sylvain coughed out, “-Here,” and waved an arm about weakly to indicate his position.

“I am also present and uninjured,” Sothis said merrily from their pockets, prompting an unamused three-way groan.

Byleth straightened up, blinking the stars out of her eyes, and stumbled to where Felix was kneeling-

_ Ah _ -

To where Felix  _ used _ to be kneeling, she amended, coming to a stop next to an empty patch of ground swept clean of loose sediment and splattered with blood droplets. She followed the trail and found him just a few feet away, staggering at a slow but determined pace toward the distant throne.

“You’re next, you bastard!” Felix yelled hoarsely, pointing a wobbly finger across the battlefield. His mask was back, replacing his face with that of a raging demon, and Byleth thought that probably wasn’t too far off from what was underneath.

She caught up to him effortlessly, and he was so spent that it took only the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder to hold him still. Honestly, she was shocked that he’d made it this far without collapsing; awakening a Persona put a tremendous strain on the body and mind and usually left one debilitated.

“Felix,” she said gently. “You can’t. Not yet.”

He turned with great effort, like his forward momentum was all the energy he’d had left, and pushed feebly at her hand. “Let me  _ go _ ,” he insisted, but there was no bite behind it.

“Dimitri, he- he made Glenn say-” Felix’s voice cracked and broke; the last traces of opposition drained out of his posture and he pitched forward, colliding heavily with Byleth and knocking her back several steps.

She caught him expertly, lowering them both to their knees and easing his head onto her shoulder. His tone - vengeful but fragile;  _ so _ fragile - speared right through her heart and out the other side, dredging up stinging memories of Jeralt and Monica and the Remire police.

Before she could overthink it, she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him in close. “Dimitri’s cognition is damaged,” she said haltingly. A Metaverse explanation was a poor tool for comfort, but it was all she had. “When we help him, I’m sure- I’m sure he’ll think of your brother differently.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Felix complained gruffly, voice muted by his mask and her shoulder, but he nevertheless returned her gesture. His hands snaked carefully around her waist, pausing often like he expected her to pull away.

When she didn’t, he relaxed into her touch, letting her assume more of his weight, and breathed, “-Thank you.”

For catching him? For talking to him?

Byleth frowned up at the sky, wondering when - if ever - she’d get better at reading people’s intentions.

“No problem,” she murmured. “You did well.”

His hands fisted in the fabric of her coat and, deep within her, glowing bright and warm, the Emperor’s tether strengthened.

She pressed a secret, pleased smile into his hair.

\---

“Okay, I think I get it,” Felix said, letting his head thunk back against stone. 

The four of them had somehow made it to the nearest safe room without running into any more Shadows and, incidentally, it was another of the gravestone-monoliths. What made some of them ‘safe’ and not others, Byleth really couldn’t say; the only one who could tell them apart was Sothis, and she always gave a vague, esoteric answer when questioned.

“This whole - area-” he surveyed the Palace from their little alcove, “-is a separate reality from ours, and people normally can’t get in?”

“Yup,” Sylvain confirmed, wincing as Ingrid applied more healing ointment to his arm and back. “The Meta-Nav lets you cross over.”

“Right,” Felix said dubiously, glancing down at the new app icon on his phone. “Some kid talks to you through it.”

All four of their phones buzzed with a sharp, digitized gasp, and then Sothis exclaimed, “I’ll have you know, young Emperor, that I am  _ unfathomably _ ancient and powerful!”

“His name is Felix,” Byleth corrected discreetly.

“-These  _ Palaces _ ,” Felix went on, emphasizing the word with air quotes, “they come about when someone has really fucked up desires?”

She muffled a snort with the heel of her palm. “Basically.”

“So what does the boar want?”

In the ensuing uncomfortable silence, Ingrid was the first to speak up. “We don’t know yet. We’re trying to get close enough to ask the ruler- ah, Dimitri’s Shadow.”

“And you want me to join you,” Felix said, crossing his arms. His Metaverse outfit was dark and lithe, styled after a centuries-old stealth warrior, built for speed. Its only points of color, much like the rest of their outfits, came from his mask and gloves - both teal green.

“Well, yeah. You have a Persona now.” Sylvain shrugged like it was an obvious, foregone conclusion. “Plus, the three of us helping Dimitri with his mental stuff...doesn’t it seem - I don’t know - appropriate?”

“Why?” Felix asked sharply. His eyes glittered in the sockets of his mask like two citrine gems set in jade. “Because he’s our future king?”

Ingrid slammed her tin of ointment down in the center of their cross-legged circle, making everyone jump.

“Because he would do the same for you,” she stated plainly; no heat, only fact and tacit disappointment. She continued with the same intensity, “Does anyone else need healing?”

Sylvain and Felix obediently shook their heads.

“We’d be stronger with you on the team,” Byleth said, folding her hands in her lap, “but it’s your decision.”

Felix sighed heavily and looked away, eventually relenting, “-Fine.”

“Great!” Sylvain attempted to clap, then yelped when the movement aggravated his wound. “ _ Jeez _ \- anyways,” he said, chagrined, as he rubbed at his left arm, “that means you need a codename!”

“A what.” Felix regarded his friend flatly.

“Yeah, you know, since we’re phantom thieves and all,” Sylvain explained, pointing to his mask.

“We’re  _ what _ ?” Felix looked to the others, exasperated, perhaps to make sure that Sylvain wasn’t messing with him.

Sothis piped up, “Ah, do you enjoy the name? I thought it fitting, given the nature of our activities.” She giggled, sounding pleased with herself. “We ‘infiltrate’ people’s hearts and ‘steal’ their distorted intentions, all without their knowledge.”

“The codenames protect our identities,” Sylvain tacked on, indicating each person as he named them. “Byleth is ‘Fiend,’ because of her mask. I’m ‘Charmer;’ self-explanatory-” he winked, then continued over the chorus of dismal moans, “-and Ingrid’s ‘Wings,’ on account of the wings.”

Ingrid half-twisted to show off the embroidery on her back.

“And I am ‘Goddess,’” Sothis said pleasantly, “because I am very beautiful and benevolent.”

Felix, who’d taciturnly taken in all this information, rested his forearms on his knees and looked down at his phone. “I get most of that, but why does the navigation app need one?”

“I am not an - an  _ application _ \- I merely use it to communicate with you lesser beings!” Sothis’s voice grew so impassioned that it fried in the speakers. “Exactly which parts of ‘unfathomably ancient and powerful’ did you fail to comprehend?”

Sylvain grimaced at the fragmented sound quality. “Don’t take it personally, dude, she’s just mad because she’s stuck in a pocket dimension, or something.”

“The nerve! I am not  _ stuck _ , I am simply  _ biding my time _ -”

“That’s enough,” Byleth said, holding up a white-gloved hand; though she’d spoken softly, everyone quieted. “Charmer’s right. Felix needs a codename.”

Three pairs of eyes shifted to inspect their newest member, who shrank back against the monolith.

“Well,” Sylvain said, angling his head and pressing a thumb to his chin. “‘Demon’ would be a little obvious, huh?”

Ingrid wrinkled her nose. “That’s too close to ‘Fiend,’” she said, honing in on the long, single-edged sword at Felix’s belt. “Hey, what about ‘Steel?’”

“Oh, that is delightful,” Sothis commented. “A name with two meanings!”

Felix made a low noise of distaste, looking to Byleth instead of acknowledging any of the others’ ideas. “What do you think?”

She didn’t answer right away, dragging her eyes methodically from his shoes to his face. Ingrid was close, she thought, but hadn’t captured quite enough.

Finally, Byleth gave a decisive nod and said, “‘Blade.’”

Without missing a beat, Sylvain quipped, “Because he’s edgy and hurts people?” 

He immediately dodged an incoming punch from Felix, protesting loudly, “Hey! Injured! I’m injured!”

“No,” Byleth said evenly, watching their antics with a vague smile. “Resilient and striking.”

Felix’s fist, poised to jab Sylvain in the stomach, instead lowered slowly to his lap. His eyes - the only visible part of his face - were wide, just as shocked as the other day in the cafe.

Ingrid and Sylvain were staring at her, too, slack-jawed like she’d said something incredible. That old social fear tickled at the back of Byleth’s mind, but before she could apologize, Felix coughed.

“You really just say whatever you want,” he mumbled, covering his mouth even though his mask was already doing that. “I like it. ‘Blade.’”

He sprung to his feet, nearly knocking Sylvain over in the process, and commanded, “Let’s go. I can walk now.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and went to assist Sylvain, shooting Byleth an ironic, knowing glance as she passed.

“Of course.” Byleth stood as well and dusted off her coat. “Goddess, lead us out.”

Amid the bustle of Sothis’s directions and Sylvain’s insincere objections to receiving aid, Byleth paused. 

She touched Felix lightly on the arm, detaining him only long enough to offer a smirk and a conspiratorial whisper, “Welcome to the team, Blade.”   


\---

1185 / 4 / 20 

Saturday // Evening

\---

**Sylvain 8:41**

eyy welcome to the phantom thieves group chat

**Felix 8:41**

Thanks

**Sothis 8:41**

Welcome! :D

**Ingrid 8:42**

You really have to stop calling it that. What if someone sees your screen?

**Sylvain 8:42**

relax, i just won’t show anyone my phone ;p

**Sylvain 8:43**

anyway since we didn’t make it very far today, wanna go back in tomorrow?

**Me 8:43**

yes, if felix is up for it

**Felix 8:44**

I’m fine. Let’s take down the boar

**Ingrid 8:44**

Well, we have a long way to go before that happens, but good energy!

**Sothis 8:44**

[ _ Palace infiltration _ reminder set for  _ Sunday, Great Tree Moon 21st _ at  _ 3:00 PM _ ]

**Sylvain 8:45**

felix already knows where to meet since he stalked us

**Felix 8:45**

...

\---

1185 / 4 / 27 

Saturday // Morning

\---

“I’ve solved your problem,” Sothis announced out of the blue, breaking the tranquility of the cafe and sending a jolt down Byleth’s spine.

“You have?” Byleth asked warily. She slowed somewhat in her task of dusting off the coffee bean display jars, wondering what the entity could possibly be on about. It couldn’t be the Metaverse; the group had been making steady progress through Dimitri’s Palace now that they had a fourth fighter - no problems there.

Her phone vibrated across the counter with the strength of Sothis’s pleased humming. “Indeed! Your bond with Felix; I have discovered the source of the blockage.”

Byleth set down the duster, smiling grimly at the wall. At least Sothis used his actual name now, she thought. It was the tiniest of victories.

“That one isn’t blocked,” she said, leaning on the bar next to her phone. “Remember?”

_ Byleth _ remembered; in fact, she’d recalled the feeling of his strong arms around her waist at least once a day since the incident, in constant disbelief that the encounter had ever happened at all. In the moment, the drive to comfort him had overridden all of her other hang-ups about contact and intimacy. 

The cynic in her hoped it wouldn’t  _ always _ take a dire circumstance for her to express a normal range of emotion.

“I do, and I am quite pleased with its further progress,” Sothis replied. “However, this bond still feels different to me than the others. I spoke at length with Ingrid and-”

“You-” Byleth sagged against the bar. “I asked you not to.”

“Oh, worry not. I changed the details and didn’t use your names.”

Byleth sank all the way to the padded floor, defeated. “Hey, Sothis,” she asked wryly, glowering up at her phone where it peeked over the counter’s edge, “how many humans do you know?”

“Four of you now, to my  _ utmost _ delight,” Sothis said happily, but then paused - and kept pausing. After nearly a full minute’s lapse, during which Byleth pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to control her breathing, she spoke again, “I, um- I believe I see your point.”

Since she had nothing constructive - or particularly friendly - to say to that, Byleth simply replied with a typical, if faintly sardonic, “Mm.”

“Despite any -  _ mishandlings _ \- my conclusion might still prove useful to you,” Sothis offered quietly. “If you would like to hear it?”

Byleth tossed up her hands in a helplessly frustrated  _ go ahead _ gesture, then realized Sothis couldn’t see it and grumbled, “Sure.”

“Excellent,” Sothis said, regaining her usual level of confidence. “The bases of human connection are undoubtedly trust and communication. I thought that your stunted bond must have its root in one - but you and Felix communicate with regularity, and his early distrust is long mended. Thus, I contacted Ingrid for an outside opinion.”

Byleth’s mouth twitched at the reminder.

“I explained that there are two humans who very much enjoy spending time together and complement each other well, and yet are holding something back from one another. What, I asked, could that be?”

Sothis waited a beat, then continued, “And Ingrid informed me that these two humans most likely harbor romantic inclinations.”

Byleth yanked herself up the cabinets, climbing awkwardly to her feet in the restrictive space. “-Say again?” She requested in lilting disbelief.

There was no way Sothis had just suggested that the snarled knot of her emotions untangled into - into - a  _ crush _ .

“Oh, it is not so devastating a statement,” Sothis said breezily. “I know you’re fond of granular logic, so please consider the following points-”

Byleth pursed her lips but played along anyway, wanting to hear her friend’s reasoning. She pulled up the imaginary whiteboard that she used to sort out her feelings, mental marker in hand.

“You behave differently around him,” Sothis said, bursting out of the gate with a strong statement that made Byleth gasp in minor affrontation. “Truly, you do! I have never known you to become flustered or nervous around anyone else.”

“That’s because-” Byleth stopped, analyzing her words as she spoke them, “-I...care what he thinks of me.”

Grudgingly, she wrote it on the whiteboard, conceding the point with a grunt.

“I am glad we are in agreement.” Sothis sounded entirely too smug about this. “Next: you spend more time with him than with the others.”

Byleth tallied up her Felix days, then added it to the board with a burgeoning sense of dread - she  _ did  _ seek him out more often than her other friends. It certainly hadn’t seemed like that on the surface, but she supposed that must be because their time together went by so quickly.

So very comparatively quickly.

“Will you not contest me on that? Very well, moving on. I can’t see you outside the Velvet Room, and therefore have no way to verify this, but Ingrid informed me that you and Felix are both averse to physical touch.”

Byleth reflexively wrapped her arms around her midsection. “-Yeah, we are,” she confirmed. Those shared boundaries had formed the basis of their friendship. “What about it?”

“Ingrid  _ also _ informed me that the two of you allow physical touch with one another regularly,” Sothis said, halting in much the same way Sylvain would to create dramatic tension, “and even initiate it on occasion?”

Memories of the previous week’s incident played again like an image reel in Byleth’s mind; she saw herself and Felix, kneeling and holding each other in the middle of a Palace - and Ingrid  _ had _ been the one to find them, hadn’t she?

“I’m-” Byleth’s mouth twisted up, conflicted, “-it’s easier with him.”

After a few seconds, Sothis prompted delicately, “Why do you think that is?”

Byleth shuffled her feet. “He gets it. He gets-”  _ everything _ , she finished internally. The loss; the abandonment; the isolation; the anger.

They didn’t push each other to act a certain way or to uphold the - frankly, exhausting - standards of social interaction. They could just  _ be _ .

“Are you beginning to understand my conclusion?” Sothis asked.

Byleth took a proverbial step back from her whiteboard, absorbing the many individual data points in their entirety. As the connections formed, so, too, did her elbows hit the countertop; as a clear, undeniable picture emerged, so, too, did her head drop into her hands.

“Yes,” she muttered, thankful that Sothis couldn’t see the rosy blush spreading across her face and down her neck.

“Excellent,” Sothis chirped. “Human bonds can only deepen with mutual understanding. How, may I ask, do you plan to inform him of its romantic nature? I imagine he might accept a presentation of logic similar to the one we held today; in fact, I have some examples-”

The entity’s voice cut out abruptly; Byleth retracted her finger from her phone’s power button and replaced her hand on her face. She stayed like that, motionless, until the front door chimed five minutes later.

Felix, like always, situated himself and his leather bag full of practice swords in two adjacent seats at the bar. He merely observed her at first, eyes flicking from her ruffled expression and posture to the countertop - clear of any brewing utensils - and then to her shut-down phone.

“You all right?” He asked.

Byleth nodded slowly, letting her arms fall and cross. “Sothis was loud,” she said with an apologetic shrug, aware that it was an odd and incomplete reason.

Wordlessly, Felix pulled out his phone and powered it off as well, setting it next to hers - and in doing so, answered the question she’d been asking herself for the past five minutes:

_ Should I tell him? _

With that simple act of acceptance, Byleth realized it wasn’t a question at all anymore; in hindsight, perhaps it had never been one.

“I want to tell you something,” she said, trying to force her tongue to keep making sounds. “But it’s- hard.”

Felix sat up more attentively. “Okay,” he said, drawing out the word as his brow furrowed.

_ Shit _ , Byleth thought.  _ Now he thinks it’s bad _ .

She looked around for ideas, and inspiration struck when she landed on the grinder. “One second,” she said hurriedly, spinning to sort through the top bean shelf. Seteth had given her permission to serve these rarer varieties only if she first memorized their characteristics - and, boy, was that about to come in handy.

“You have something to tell me about  _ coffee _ ?” Felix asked, his tone at a midpoint between concern and amusement.

Byleth found the jar she’d been looking for and moved it to the counter, quickly grabbing a carafe and a filter on the way. “No, it’s not about-” she sighed, “-just listen.”

He dipped his chin, worry giving way to curiosity as he watched her go through the familiar setup steps. The repetitive motions helped to calm her nerves and, by the time the grind was complete, she’d solidified her resolve.

“This is a medium roast from Faerghus,” she began, biting back a laugh at his instantly surprised reaction. “I know. There’s an island off the coast, close to their border with the Empire, and it’s the only place in the whole country where coffee plants can grow. Even then, it’s a temperamental breed. It’s difficult to store and transport.”

Byleth situated the filter while she organized her speech. “It took me a while to understand it. The roast is really specific, and it can’t get too dark; a little too much heat and it’s ruined. So you have to be careful. You have to- go slowly,” she said, pouring water in a steady, deliberate pattern over the grounds, “and give it time to acclimate.”

Felix alternated his attention between the carafe and Byleth with a perplexed frown. “What are you-?”

She put a finger to her lips. His confusion was understandable, but he’d said it best himself: she could only speak at length about one topic.

He rested his chin on a closed fist, scrutinizing her face, then acquiesced with another curt nod. “All right. I’m listening.”

Byleth thanked him with a small smile, tapping her fingers on the side of the boiler to re-gather her thoughts.

“But - even though it seems volatile, I think this coffee is actually amazing,” she said, keeping her eyes downcast. “I like that it grows in adversity; that means it’s a survivor. It’s resilient.”

He shifted in her peripheral vision at the mention of that word.

“I like that it has specific needs. They make it a little intimidating at first, since there’s so much to learn - but once you get past that, the flavor is breathtaking.” 

Byleth found herself nearly grinning at the brew, tracing patterns into the glass. “It has this sweetness that can only be brought out with proper care. The more you drink it, the more balanced it becomes - and you forget that you ever thought it was bitter.”

_ There _ , she thought, lifting her fingers from the carafe, proud and a bit surprised at the volume of sentiment she’d shown. Her cheeks must be burning, she knew, equally from vulnerability and rising steam.

Felix didn’t respond for nearly a full minute. Water dripped incrementally from the filter, echoing in the silence - and Byleth felt her courage leaking out by the same amounts.

Had he missed her implications? Did he think she was just really, really passionate about coffee?

Just when she was ready to dive out Leblanc’s front window, he spoke,

“So-” his voice was raspy and uneven; he cleared his throat, but it didn’t help, “-you like it, then? The coffee?”

She raised her head, meeting stunned but fascinated eyes, and a measure of her bravery returned; those were not the eyes of someone who’d misread her intentions.

“I do,” she said. “I like it a lot.”

The last drop of water splashed definitively into the carafe, and then the rippling, turbulent surface of the liquid inside finally settled.

Unable to bear the weight of her admission, Byleth busied herself with serving out two cups. “How do  _ you _ feel about it?” She asked as casually as possible, hoping he wouldn’t catch the tremors in her voice and her pouring hand.

Someone walked by the cafe, the indistinct rise and fall of their voice amplified in the narrow side street, and it emphasized the private atmosphere inside. All of Leblanc’s lights were off, its chalkboard menu blank, its door sign flipped to ‘closed.’ A person would have to get very close, indeed, in order to peer in. 

None of this was out of the ordinary, but in the lull following her question, it took on new, intimate meaning. Byleth sipped at her drink to soothe herself, savoring its rich flavor. When she looked back from the window, Felix was staring at her.

“I want to try it,” he said, tracking the path of her cup from the counter to her mouth and then lingering there. A glance to his own cup - easily within reach yet ignored - suggested he wasn’t talking about coffee.

A bicycle sped past the shop, filling it briefly with dazzling refractions, and Byleth chose to be bold.

Heart in her throat, she braced her hands on the bar and leaned forward, stopping halfway to allow him the space to accept or decline the invitation; from here, she could trace the slanted lines of morning light across his face, could read the desire in his focused amber eyes.

Felix rose from his chair, eagerly bending over the bar to reach her, leaving no question as to his intent. He trailed his fingers up her neck, flaying her open inch by inch, and wound them into her hair; he tipped her chin up and angled it just so, looking down at her half-lidded and purposeful, giving her one last chance to disengage.

Their breaths came shallow and humid in the scant space between them, mingling with the curling steam from their cups. Byleth laughed once, quietly, at the notion that she would ever want to get away from  _ this _ \- and kissed him.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined; warmer than his prickly exterior would suggest. He pressed back impatiently, crushing their mouths together like he’d waited an eternity for the chance, like she might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

Byleth obliged him, tilting her head and reveling in the friction. He smelled of leather and soap and clove oil, overlaid by the permanent coffee scent that clung to Leblanc. He’d be carrying that around all day, she realized, and it sent a tingling, possessive thrill through her limbs.

He pulled away reluctantly, dark-eyed and breathless, and ran his tongue over his bottom lip; even while weak and recovering, Byleth’s fingers twitched at the sheer unfairness of the gesture - one she intended to replicate wholeheartedly once her lungs stopped burning.

Felix bent in close to her ear, tickling her skin with the ends of his hair. “You’re right,” he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s sweet.”

Her arms gave out entirely, burdened by shock and sensation, and struck hard against the wooden bar. 

Byleth hissed and cradled her elbows while Felix chuckled above her. She craned her neck at him in mock-anger, but a contagious smile was already stretching across her face.

“I’m glad you liked it,” she said wryly, rubbing the sting out of her muscles.

He sat back down in his usual chair and crossed his arms on the bar, then asked with an air of amusement, “What, the coffee?”

She hated this new dynamic, Byleth decided, fixing him with her best, flattest stare. “Yeah,” she deadpanned. “The coffee.”

Felix laughed again, a warm, genuine sound that made her heart flutter, but it was interrupted by the urgent pounding of a fist on the front door.

“Hey! Turn on your phones!” Sylvain shouted, his voice suppressed and faint on the other side. “Sothis is worried!”

Sothis wasn’t the only one, Byleth thought with a spark of unease. Sylvain’s other hand - the one not knocking obnoxiously - was pointing his phone’s camera at the glass. That, coupled with the ecstatic, shit-eating grin on his face, did not tell a very fortuitous story at all.

Felix shot her a complicated glance - apologetic, annoyed, and regretful all in one - and stomped to the door, tearing it open with an abrasive, “What do you want?”

Sylvain, of course, pushed his way inside, followed by a contrite and flustered Ingrid who refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Oh, I’m so relieved that you are unharmed!” Sothis proclaimed. “I lost contact with both of you in quick succession and feared the worst.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Byleth brought up two more coffee cups. “It’s called ‘privacy,’ Sothis.” The carafe still sat askew on the counter, displaced by needy, reaching arms, and her ears reddened at the memory.

“Aw, she was just worried about you,” Sylvain said good-naturedly, still suspiciously upbeat for how early it was. “Well, now that we’re  _ all  _ hanging out - you can turn your phones back on.”

Byleth paused as she handed over his cup, squinting at his cheerful, overly innocent demeanor. “-Why?”

Ingrid was acting strangely, too, staring straight ahead like a doe in high-beams and flushed from forehead to chin.

“What’s going on?” Byleth asked slowly, switching her gaze between the two.

At the same time, Felix returned from re-locking the door and hopped back up on his seat, casually powering on his phone and asking, “Why are you guys being so weird?”

Byleth did the same, keeping a concerned eye on Sylvain the whole time. He was practically vibrating with excitement, perched on the edge of his chair, and watching her phone boot up with the intensity of a hunting hawk.

When its bright white logo lit up the screen, Ingrid broke.

“I- I tried to stop him,” she blurted, splaying her hands out on the countertop like she was confessing to murder. “I told him it was a private moment - and  _ absolutely _ none of our business, but-”

“ _ Ingrid _ !” Sylvain complained, visibly deflating. “They haven’t seen it yet!”

Byleth and Felix shared an apprehensive glance, then turned back to Sylvain.

“What,” Felix said, low and dangerous, “did you do?”

Sylvain looked at their phones one last time, dejected, and then slumped in his chair. “Okay, fine-” he jerked a thumb in Ingrid’s direction, “-we saw you guys kiss.”

“Sylvain got a picture,” Ingrid lamented.

The cafe erupted in a mixed cacophony of horrified and accusatory voices.

“So that’s what it was,” Sothis said mildly through the chaos. “I was wondering what they were making such a fuss about.”

“You  _ fucking _ \- that was-” Felix sputtered in his indecision, his anger split too many ways, but then it seemed to hone in like a laser on Sylvain’s face, “- _ I’ll kill you _ .”

He leapt from his chair in a flying tackle, knocking Sylvain down to the floor with him.

“Ow, Felix - come on, dude, it was an  _ accident _ ! Ow-”

Amid the muffled sounds of struggle, Ingrid at last worked up the courage to meet Byleth’s eyes, steepling her fingers in repentance. “I am so sorry. We honestly didn’t know, and Sothis made it sound like an emergency, so…”

“It’s fine, Ingrid,” Byleth said, shaking her head. “I understand.”

Sothis commented haughtily, “It  _ could _ have been an emergency.”

Down the bar, a few chairs scraped harshly against the floor despite their vacancy - a telltale sign that Felix’s divine punishment was both ongoing and mobile.

“Well-” Ingrid perked up somewhat, “-at least it’s a nice picture.” She grimaced at her phone, adding tersely, “Aside from the obvious.”

Byleth opened her own messages and a photo notification from Sylvain popped up instantly: ‘ _ summerlovin.jpg _ .’ She hesitantly tapped it and, at first, saw exactly what she’d come to expect out of surprise images from him.

In the foreground stood the boy himself, beaming and posing dramatically in front of Leblanc’s front door. His free hand valiantly fended off Ingrid, who was only partially in frame and making a grab for the camera.

Byleth huffed a laugh at the scene, but then it became a stifled gasp; through the glass, cleanly framed - how had Sylvain managed to do that while being assaulted? - were herself and Felix, pressed together over the bar. Pale, diffused light from the street lit them softly, accenting their reverential half-embrace and painting the rest of the cafe in shadow.

“It’s not even summer,” she critiqued, but saved the image to her phone anyway. Ingrid was right; with some careful cropping, it really would be a nice picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seteth, upon finding four wasted cups of very expensive coffee: second child was a mistake


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still working on this, slowly but steadily! \o/

\---

1185 / 4 / 27 

Saturday // Evening

\---

**Sylvain 11:14**

sooo…

**Sylvain 11:14**

after thinking about it, ingrid’s right

**Sylvain 11:14**

i kinda messed up earlier

**Ingrid 11:15**

Can I get that in writing?

**Felix 11:15**

KINDA?

**Sylvain 11:16**

i’m trying to apologize here!!

**Felix 11:16**

Try harder

**Sylvain 11:17**

felix, byleth, i’m really sorry for butting into your business

**Me 11:17**

it’s ok. it was mostly an accident

**Ingrid 11:17**

I’d hold onto that forgiveness until he’s done typing.

**Sylvain 11:18**

it was super rude of me to preserve your first kiss in a magical and instagram worthy pic

**Felix 11:18**

Predictable.

**Felix 11:18**

If you link it one more time I swear to the goddess

**Sylvain 11:19**

felix, i would never 

**Me 11:20**

i still forgive you

**Me 11:20**

since it’s a nice pic

**Sylvain 11:20**

aw leader. you’re too kind ;)

**Sylvain 11:24**

so are you guys dating now or what?

**Sothis 11:25**

What is “dating?”

**Me 11:26**

i’ll tell you later

**Ingrid 11:26**

Let’s change the subject, please.

**Ingrid 11:26**

There are only 5 days left. We need to send the calling card by Tuesday.

**Me 11:27**

yeah. we’re so close

**Me 11:27**

everyone good to go a full day tomorrow?

**Sylvain 11:28**

you know it

**Ingrid 11:28**

No complaints here.

**Ingrid 11:30**

Felix?

**Sylvain 11:32**

oops did i break him

**Felix 11:35**

I’m good for tomorrow

**Sothis 11:35**

[ _ Palace infiltration _ reminder set for  _ Sunday, Great Tree Moon 28th _ at  _ 9:00 AM _ ]

**Sylvain 11:36**

so early?!

**Ingrid 11:37**

You’d better get to bed, then.

**Me 11:37**

sleep well everyone

**Ingrid 11:38**

Thanks. You too. :)

**Sylvain 11:38**

yep, sweet dreams

**Sylvain 11:38**

[attached image:  _ summerlovin.jpg _ ]

\---

Byleth curled up on her lumpy futon, grinning as Sylvain’s picture appeared in the group chat yet again. He’d already posted it twice since they’d all dispersed from Leblanc, and it looked like he wasn’t planning to stop.

She brought her phone closer to admire the details; Sylvain joked often about the professional quality of his candid photos, but this one was truly stunning. Byleth could zoom in and admire the morning light in Felix’s hair, or the gentle brush of his fingers on her jawline - and she did, each and every time it popped up.

They hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about the kiss yet. Sylvain and Ingrid had stayed over until the Palace alarm went off - and then, when the four of them had trudged out of the Metaverse several hours later, she’d just wanted to go home and take a bath.

Byleth turned onto her other side, facing the wall. What was “dating,” indeed? She would only be able to provide an academic answer to Sothis, since she’d never experienced the real thing.

_ It’s when two people publicly acknowledge their romantic feelings and then go on outings together _ . She rolled the explanation around in her head, finding it dry even by her own standards. Was that what she wanted, anyway? To walk around the city with Felix, hand-in-hand, visiting ice cream shops and buying each other cute phone charms?

Somehow she couldn’t see either of them enjoying that, though the thought of matching phone charms  _ did _ make her smile fondly; briefly. Perhaps parts of that answer could stay.

Her phone buzzed on the pillow; she reached blindly behind her, slapping about until she touched cold glass, and only needed a glimpse of the caller ID before answering.

“Ingrid,” she greeted, “if you apologize, I’m hanging up.”

The line was silent for a few seconds, then her friend’s voice came through with a tinge of embarrassment, “-You found me out.”

Byleth chuckled, flopping onto her back so she could look out her open window. “I did. Was there something else?”

“Yes, actually.” Ingrid returned to the usual, businesslike manner she used on the phone. “About the, uh -  _ matter _ \- that Sothis brought to my attention yesterday-” Byleth groaned, “-just hear me out.”

“I know that Sylvain and I sort of barged in before you two were ready,” Ingrid continued, and her urge to apologize was palpable, “but I wanted to say that I think it’s sweet. You and Felix, I mean.”

“You do?” Byleth couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. Sylvain had implied his approval through teasing - and she was grateful for it, despite the delivery method - but Ingrid hadn’t said a thing, positive or negative, all day.

Now, though, she was incredulous. “Of course I do! You two complement each other so well. Did you think I wouldn’t support two friends being happy?”

“No, I-” Byleth squirmed on the futon. When put that way, her wariness really did seem strange, “-I’ve never had friends before.”

She pushed through the verbal discomfort to elaborate, “I don’t know the- rules.”

Barely audible over the downtown night traffic, a whisper in the speaker, Ingrid replied, “Oh.”

“I forget your circumstances so often,” she said, equal parts empathetic and self-deprecating. “This  _ would _ all be new to you. Please forg- ah. I almost made you hang up.”

Byleth covered her nose, but not in time to stop a snort-laugh from escaping. Ingrid was always so  _ serious _ , even when following ridiculous instructions. 

“Is it that funny?” Ingrid asked, but the amusement in her own voice just made Byleth laugh harder.

She only stopped after a sharp ping in her ear. “I’m getting another call,” she said, checking the ID.

“It’s Felix,” she informed Ingrid with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He notoriously hated phone conversations, even going so far as to miss several doctors’ appointments when they refused to send reminders via text or email.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Ingrid breathed, a scandalized echo of her previous one. “You’d better go, then. I’m sure there’s a good reason for this.”

Byleth’s mouth screwed up into an anxious frown. They both knew the reason.

“Yeah,” she said, glancing out the window as a breeze blew down the alley, setting her wind chimes tinkling and the tree outside swaying. Belatedly, she added, “Ingrid - thank you.”

There was a quiet, pleased hum on the other end. “Any time,” Ingrid said, and the line cut out with a click.

Byleth answered the other call before she could second-guess herself, remaining silent to let Felix launch into whatever he wanted to say - but he didn’t.

A faint shuffling came through, like he was pacing back and forth. Every so often the shuffling would pause and he’d take a deep breath, as if he were about to speak, but then he’d grunt and the pacing would resume.

“Felix?” She prompted after almost a full minute of this.

The background sounds sharpened to a sudden - and potentially very expensive, given the volume of high-end workout equipment in his room - crash, followed by muttered cursing and the distinct drag of metal on wood as he repositioned something.

“Byleth,” he finally replied, out of breath from dealing with the mystery accident. “What Sylvain said. I realized we never- uh- talked about- it.”

“About us dating,” she plainly supplied.

He made another, more strangled sound. “Yeah. That.”

Byleth found it rather humorous that the same boy who’d confidently kissed her over the bar counter was now shying away from a discussion about relationships, but that was Felix, she supposed. All action.

“We don’t have to,” she said gently, when it became apparent that he was caught in another silence loop. She’d much rather leave their association ambiguous than become a source of stress.

“No, we do.” Felix’s voice was firmer now. “This morning, I-” the rest of his words came quickly, gravelly, like he had to forcibly tear them out, “-I liked it. I like  _ you _ . When we’re together, it’s- it’s nice. It’s easy; everything else is complicated, but being with you is easy. And I want to...keep doing that.”

He let out a trembling breath, pausing like he’d reached the end of a long rope, and asked uncertainly, “Do you- want that, too?”

Byleth had slowly pushed herself into a sitting position while he talked, cradling the phone with her shoulder so she could cover her mouth with both hands. She lifted them just long enough to answer, “Yes, I do.”

Any longer and she didn’t know  _ what _ would come out; something warm and sentimental was blocking up her throat, coaxing her mouth into a charmed smile, making her toes curl underneath the blanket.

“Good,” Felix declared with the same bravado he’d use to challenge her to a duel. Byleth really wanted to laugh, now; who knew dating was so simple?

They were both silent for a few tense, prolonged moments, and she was sure it was because neither of them had any concrete ideas on how to proceed. 

Eventually, deciding it would be best to just continue on as they were, Byleth suggested, “We should get some sleep.”

And after a steady inhalation, during which he evidently came to the same conclusion, Felix agreed, “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Byleth didn’t hang up right away; neither did he. The line buzzed indistinctly between them until she reached up to end the call, falling back onto her futon in a giddy daze.

She pressed the phone to her forehead, its smooth surface cool against heated skin, and let out a single, secret giggle. It slipped to the side as she dozed off, cradled unintentionally in the circle of her arms.

\---

1185 / 4 / 27 

Saturday // Night

\---

“It took you  _ forever _ to fall asleep. What were you doing out there?”

Byleth’s eyes shot open, pupils dilating instantly to acclimate to the Velvet Room’s near-absolute darkness. Leblanc’s loft - its vaulted, raftered ceiling, its peeling wallpaper, even her old futon - were gone, replaced by a flat stone floor that stretched away into shadow. A persistent, sourceless green haze dimly lit a portion of the floor; if it had any connecting walls - if this was a room at all, and not just a free-floating platform in a void - they were permanently shrouded, and Byleth didn’t trust this place enough to go poking around.

_ This is the state of your heart _ , Sothis had said upon Byleth’s first appearance here,  _ and what a sorry state it is _ .

A grand staircase rose from the floor, connecting to a dais that held the room’s single furnishing: a massive jade throne decorated with numerous patterned carvings.

Sothis herself sat on the throne, adorned in blue silks and golden jewelry like an ancient queen. Her green hair flowed in waves to her bare feet, just shy of dragging on the ground, as she regarded Byleth imperiously.

“Ingrid and Felix wanted to talk,” Byleth answered, climbing the steps and perching on one arm of the throne, as was her habit. “Apparently, so do you.”

She couldn’t complain; Sothis was lonely in here - wherever  _ here _ was - and Byleth, for reasons unknown, was the only one who could actually enter the space. 

(She’d pointed out the numerous doors to her friends, only to be met with blank, slightly worried stares, which had only grown more worried when she’d tried to push them through - to no avail.)

“Ah, yes,” Sothis said, perking up instantly. “You promised to define a term for me.”

Byleth, who’d been building a mental list of abilities that might be useful for the final stages of Dimitri’s Palace, slid her eyes down to the entity. 

“You couldn’t have texted?” She asked, gesturing to their extra-dimensional surroundings. Byleth didn’t know what sort of energy expenditure went into summoning a person into - their own heart? - but doing so for the purposes of chatting seemed rather excessive.

Sothis drew herself up indignantly. “Well!  _ I _ didn’t wish to delay your rest, unlike the others. If you ask me, I am the more considerate one, here.”

She looked away with a little huff, then not-so-subtly glanced back to check how her assertion was received. Byleth, resigned to these one-sided interactions, simply motioned for her to continue.

“I’m glad you agree,” Sothis said with a pleased smile, to which Byleth nodded wearily. “So, tell me. What is this ‘dating’ that Sylvain mentioned?”

Byleth doubted Sothis would accept ‘ _ I’m still figuring it out, _ ’ as a legitimate answer, so she stretched her legs on the throne’s wide arm and settled in.

“Okay- you understand romantic feelings, yes?” This was probably a safe starting point; Sothis had been the one to suggest the idea, after all.

“Oh, of course,” Sothis replied confidently. “One of the many ties between human hearts - among the stronger connections, too. You’re quite lucky to have formed one.”

Something about her delivery - abstract and categorical - told Byleth that this might be an uphill battle.

“Is ‘dating’ an action that follows a romantic bond, then?”

Byleth tilted her head. “Not always. But in this case, yes.” She let one leg dangle over the side of the throne. “I think- I think it’s mostly just mutual acknowledgement.”

_ When two people each think the other is special _ , she tried out mentally, but that didn’t sound right, either. Sylvain and Ingrid were special, but she didn’t want to kiss  _ them _ .

Sothis looked over doubtfully, brow creased and lips downturned. She rearranged herself on the oversized throne so that she sat cross-legged with her back against the opposite arm. “So it is a common phenomenon?”

“Too common,” Byleth said, thinking of the many, many annoying couples running around Garreg Mach. 

“Hm.” Sothis let her head fall backward, staring up into the impenetrable dark, and asked quietly, “Then- when my memories return, might I find such a bond?”

Byleth watched the little entity for a time, caught between appeasement and realism - and eventually settled on the former. 

“Yeah, if you want to,” she said lightly. None of them even knew what Sothis  _ was _ \- least of all Sothis, herself - but Byleth had enough emotional awareness to know when someone wanted comfort.

She glanced down the long staircase, glowing faintly ethereal-green like everything else, then back to her friend. “Is that what this was about?”

Sothis lowered her head until the two were eye-to-eye, grimacing like she regretted her openness. “No, it most certainly was  _ not _ ,” she proclaimed, nearly shouting despite their close proximity. “I was simply allowing you to fulfill a promise, which you did- and now you may leave.”

She accented her clipped words by drawing a familiar array of bright sigils in the air - the method by which she both called and banished Byleth from this realm.

“Wait,” Byleth said quickly, and Sothis paused her cast, “you can bring me here to talk. I don’t mind.”

The odd, angular runes rotated in a slow circle between them, bathing Sothis in a white light that made her look more otherworldly than usual. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded sharply and traced the last sigil.

“I may,” she conceded, lofty and vague - as if the Fool arcana  _ hadn’t _ just strengthened inside Byleth’s heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sothis: what's 'dating?'
> 
> byleth, over a montage of her and felix throwing each other around a dirty back alley: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh


End file.
